A Morning Thought
by ZC1896
Summary: Something that I just had to write even if it took me till 1:51 AM in the morning to post. Enjoy! :)


Disclaimer: I don't own HP.

* * *

**A MORNING THOUGHT**

Sunlight touches your window screen, passing through your curtains, wrestling with the wind until it reaches you. Gentle warmth sip through your body all the while blinding your eyes which are yet to open. It's calm and serene and soft like your mother's touch when she greets you with a happy face when you're back at home and she wakes you up for breakfast. You jolt awake, rubbing your eyes. You're still wearing the white night dress you bought out of pity from the old wizard at Knock Turn's Alley that one time you got lost and couldn't find your friends. You reach for your glasses lying on the lamp table beside your bed, and you frown, suddenly remembering why you got lost in the first place. You wipe your glasses with your shirt before putting them on, and as you press your back on the headstand, you realize it's the same reason you always have trouble sleeping early. You felt like frowning again, in pity, in disgust of yourself. And you would, you would have done so at least, only if a content smile didn't fight its way to your dry lips. And you realize you couldn't fight the smile off, because the fact that it's morning again started sinking in your brain cells. And you jump out of bed, suddenly feeling excited. You're seventeen. You've grown, even matured as your professors proudly commented and your friends grudgingly admitted. And you run to your closet, desperate to find something clean to wear. You're a guy. Laundry was never your forte.

It may have taken a while, but you grinned when you found it. You grin like a child who saw a very funny clown for the very first time. You find yourself nodding at noone, and the grin never leaves your face. It's pathetic, even you think so, but it's also one of the things that makes every single day worth living. And you lift that brown sweater to the air, eying it like it was a masterpiece, a very precious relict created by some talented being. And your eyes soften as your thoughs wander, and you begin to think that perhaps, it was indeed created by someone very very talented that only a few chosen ones can appreciate the true beauty of such piece. You took your time to the bathroom, making sure you're all set for the day. You realize that unlike before when you're an ignorant boy who only cares about flying and soaring up the sky and having fun in everything with everyone, and you were so carefree and clumsy even in the littlest of things such as cleaning yourself, now you've changed. Now, you spend time always double checking to see if you've done your best. And you feel a sense of pride creeps to your heart. It was there. But you fight it off. You know by now you shouldn't let it get to your head if you do not want to return to that egotistic guy who has no care in the world. And you made sure you won the fight. And there was the tiniest hint of an inner struggle inside of you, but you shrugged the thought away. You're James Potter. You used to love fun and pranks and enjoy every bit of everyday. But now the days are dark. Things are getting more and more serious with the fight of good and evil. People are getting killed. And the you before would have frowned, but you keep your chin up, forced confidence radiating through you. "You can do this." You tell yourself.

You're a grown man. You've matured. And then you put on your pants first and then your brown sweater. And as the soft cloth touches your skin, you feel your burden being lifted up, your spirit suddenly ready to be cheerful again.

The world is turning darker and darker by the minute. But somehow, you couldn't let yourself feel sad remembering the girl who gave you the sweater as a birthday gift, even if for some reasons, she just shoved it to your face and ran out of your party, spilling butter beers along the way. And as you think of her smile, innocent and beautiful, you couldn't find any thing in the world that can make you think of the world as anything but beautiful and worth fighting for. And you smile. You remember that day when you first saw that sweater in a newly opened store in Hogsmeade. It stands out from the rest of the clothes in there, and you were the first who noticed among your friends. You pointed at it, and their eyes followed your finger, and they laughed. They thought it's the most hideous and poorest excuse for a sweater. It's brown and dull and full of holes. It looks like something the giants squid will wear with it having enough holes big enough for tentacles. And you laughed, agreeing just because you didn't want to look uncool even if inside you still believe there was something in that sweater that makes you want it. And when you left the store without looking back, you couldn't fight the pinch of regret. And that's why you couldn't be more shocked when four days after, on your birthday, when you were feeling like the luckiest bloke in the planet just because Lily Evans gave you a gift and you excitedly began tearing the wrapper off ignoring her protests of opening it later, you felt your heart stop for a beat. And then you grinned, a grin that probably reaches your ears. Suddenly you were feeling like the first time you flew on a broom, except you were even more ecstatic. You smile at her, and it felt like you were the only two people in the room as you showed her her gift to you. It was that sweater you wanted but didn't buy because your friends thought it was uncool.

And you smile. You smile like a fool. In your head, there was no other explanation for it but fate. It was fate. It was destiny. There had to be a reason why you felt attachment to that sweater. And at that moment, you realize exactly what it was. You knew even before you had it that it was meant to be yours. What you didn't know was that it was meant to be given to you by the very girl of your dreams.

And you sigh, not out of tiredness but of content and happiness. You touch the fabric. And you smirk. Life is beautiful.

* * *

It's 1:48 AM and I have class at 9 but I just have to write this. It feels right. And who knows, maybe if I feel it right again, I'll add some more drabbles of Lily and James. Anyway, I'll leave the reviews to you guy. Thanks for reading!

-ZC :)


End file.
